


but what is a hero, really?

by mjscorner



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Academic Decathalon, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Awesome Michelle Jones, BAMF Michelle Jones, BAMF Peter Parker, Flash Thompson Redemption, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Good Friend Ned Leeds, Humor, Identity Reveal, Kidnapped Peter Parker, Michelle Jones Is a Good Bro, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Whump, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective Peter Parker, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Redemption, Spider-Man Identity Reveal, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, Whump, argument
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24010879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mjscorner/pseuds/mjscorner
Summary: "Flash," Peter pleaded breathlessly, "you don't want to do this, okay? They're armed. Trust me, you don't understand.""No, I think I do understand," Flash scoffed, unsurprised. "You've been a loser your whole entire life, but everyone here still adores you. Well, I'm done dealing with that, okay? Time for me to be a hero."Peter's heart sank as Flash bumped into his shoulder and marched forward.He stopped before rounding the corner when the faint sound of a gun being cocked echoed throughout the hall, freezing Flash right in his place. Peter turned on his heel in an instant, standing beside Flash protectively."But-but what is a hero, really?" Flash croaked with a nervous smile, side-eyeing the weapon suspended beside him as it softly nudged the side of his skull.Peter slowly raised his hands in surrender, staring at Flash until he did the same, dropping the cans of pepper spray and the walkie talkies."We are so, so, so monumentally screwed."
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Flash Thompson, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 54
Kudos: 621





	but what is a hero, really?

**Author's Note:**

> so i decided to finally type up this little idea I've had for the longest time for flash's redemption because i liked the idea of him being a modern bully in the movies and i just want him to be redeemed rather than being portrayed as the jock white kid that shoves peter parker into lockers while ALSO maintaining some irondad content lmfao. timeline is kinda blurry but i imagine it post-endgame except tony and steve live and far from home doesn't happen. based on an episode of chuck i watched recently. enjoy <3

Peter rested his head on his hand with a groan, looking over his shoulder at the clock for the millionth time that period.

He was in AP Calculus. They were starting a new unit today, which normally meant that he should be taking notes, acting attentively. But he was on-edge, as he had been that entire week, and his brain hurt from thinking, and his stomach craved a meal that wasn't instant, and Tony hadn't reached out since they fought the night before over something so completely ridiculous that he could barely wrap his brain around it.

" _Listen, kiddo. Now that I'm retired-and, I mean, like,_ really _retired, as in never wearing the suit again-I just think, you know, why does it make sense to put your life on the line? A-and I just got you back, and everything seems about as normal as it's ever gonna get around here after everything that happened, so I just thought: what if you stopped web-slinging for a while? Maybe...forever, if you feel like that's best._ "

" _Wh-what? Are you being serious?"_

 _"It's just a suggestion, Pete. And one that I really hope that you consider. You're my kid, and you're a_ good _kid. A really idiotic, self-sacrificing one at that. But you don't have to be."_

 _"No. S-Stop. Look, everyone is gone, Mr. Stark. The Avengers are gone. I have to protect May, Ned, everyone. I can't just stop. I won't._ "

_"Yeah, and that's what scares me. You don't stop. You know what's out there now. We're talking about real danger, here."_

_"Oh, I'm sorry, and I can only handle fake danger?"_

_"I know you love being Spider-Man, but you've made some high-profile arrests and captures that the wrong people_ will _kill for."_

_"Well, I can take care of these wrong people without you holding my hand."_

_"Kid, stop it. I'm asking you again: why does it make sense to risk your life?"_

_"Because it's what I do! Because I'm a superhero!"_

_"No, Peter, you're_ not _!"_

Peter jumped slightly in his seat as the pencil he had fisted in his other hand snapped in half, splinters flying onto the surface behind it. He cleared his throat and stiffened his posture, looking around and praying that his mini-outburst had been discreet.

Luckily, he had been subtle enough not to warrant any unwanted attention, aside from a frown from Ned. Peter shook his head, struggling to get his senses back into reality

Or, more specifically, math class.

"And then, this parabola...oh, yeah, and we have to remember, at this stage, we think of it like Spider crawling up the wall. See? Okay, so then the slope..."

"Dude, what's up?"

Peter offered a glance Ned's way, clearing his throat as he leaned over to Ned's desk.

"Sorry," he whispered. "Just thinking."

"Has Mr. Stark seriously not apologized yet? After last night? That's low."

"No, it's...he was right. Or, no, he wasn't. He was wrong, but I understand where he was coming from."

Peter shot another look back at the clock.

"I just need to swing by and talk to him after school."

"You mean after Decathalon practice, right? Also, 'swing by'? Dude, _awesome_."

Peter mentally chastised himself. Decathalon practice. Why did it feel like every time he tried to get his life back on track, Decathalon found a new way to screw it all up?

"Y-yeah, sorry. After Decathalon practice."

"Sweet. You're still coming over tonight, though, right?"

"Actually, can I take a rain check? I just-I really want to clear the air with Mr. Stark as soon as possible, and with practice running till five today, I might just pack a bag and stay at my room at the cabin, if you don't mind. Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, dude, of course. Tomorrow."

"Thanks, man."

The rest of the class drained by excruciatingly slow, those few remaining minutes of the class spent by Peter refraining from jumping up from his seat and bursting out of the door. Finally, that glorious, triumphant school bell rang, and Peter was rushing to get to the cafetorium, Ned hot on his heels.

"We're covering Physics today _again_ ," Ned complained along the way. "I swear, it's like the fourth time this month that we've been over the Physics portion."

"I'm pretty sure he thinks that the people who were Blipped forgot everything they knew," Peter grinned, throwing his yellow blazer on over his t-shirt as they rounded the corner to the cafetorium. "Plus, all he talks about is his ex-wife Tabatha. He doesn't have the emotional stability required to actually teach us anything we don't already know."

"True. It's seriously disturbing the things he's told us."

"I think we might be his best friends."

"Oh, my god."

Peter snickered as he pushed the cafetorium doors open, his backpack slung over his shoulder as Ned plopped himself down into one of the ten chairs placed in a circle in the center of the room. Peter, naturally, swung his backpack onto the back of the seat directly beside MJ.

"Hey, MJ."

"'Sup, Pe-"

"Nah-ah-ah," Mr. Harrington pulled Peter up by the collar of his blazer, lightly shoving him toward the stage. "You're up. Science portion."

Peter sighed as he crossed to the stairs leading up to the stage, walking up to the white fold-out table and taking a seat beside Flash, who was leaning back in his chair with his leg propped up on the table's surface. He didn't grace Peter's presence with eye contact.

"Whaddup, dickwad?"

"Yeah, hey, Flash."

"Alright, boys, we're in the endgame here. I'm talkin' everything on the line. You are the faces of Midtown High. Really show it. MJ, just start feeding them questions, rapid-fire. I got a phone call to make."

"Is this really-?"

"You heard the man," MJ shrugged, pulling out a stack of index cards and blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face. "What're the units of length, area, and volume in centimeters?"

"Uh...okay, I guess we're just jumping right in then. Centimeters, centimeters squared, centimeters cubed."

"Yep," MJ nodded. "Nice work, Peter."

"Th-thanks, MJ."

Flash rolled his head back with a groan, shaking his head.

"Um, hello? You didn't hit the bell before answering? Also, MJ talks way too slow. Did he not say 'rapid-fire'?"

"Whatever," MJ rolled her eyes. "Who was the first to propose that disease was not due to supernatural causes? Robert Koch or Hippocrates?"

"Uh," Peter furrowed his brow, reaching forward and tapping the bell, "I don't-Hippocrates...?"

MJ nodded, tossing the card over her shoulder.

"Have they really asked that question before?"

"Nah," she snickered. "I just thought it was cool."

"Do we really have to be the only two up here every time it's the science portion?" Flash asked, jabbing a thumb Peter's way. "Surely there's someone else on the team that knows this stuff as much as Penis does. Give them a turn."

"There is," Abe said. "But we all prefer Peter."

"Thanks. See? Everyone loves me, Flash. I'm universally adored."

"We don't have anyone as strong as you in Physics, Peter," Betty clarified.

"B-but these aren't even Physics questions!" Flash shrugged his shoulders questioningly.

"I mean, Flash kinda has a point," Peter agreed. "We can't have one person per portion. Ned, get up here, man."

"What!" Ned shook his head. "Nuh-uh, no. I'm gonna look like an idiot."

"I'm the team captain," MJ stood, her arms crossed. "I say Peter stays. You still have to make up for all the times you ditched us on competition days."

Peter couldn't really argue with that, but he would definitely try.

"MJ," Peter scolded with a whisper, already rising from his seat. "Y'know what, no. I'm already gone. I've got to go to the bathroom anyway. I'll be back."

"You're on the stand when you get back. You're not getting out of this, Parker."

"Yeah, yeah."

Peter stepped out of the room, making his way down the hall. He scoffed despite himself. He didn't particularly have time to be here, nor did he want to spend the next two hours thinking about how he was going to apologize to Tony.

_What do I have to apologize for? Shouldn't he be apologizing to me?_

He shook his head. Maybe he had been a little too harsh with the man. He probably shouldn't have referred so much to the fact that Tony always insisted on holding his hand because it kinda scared him, reminded him that, without Tony on the field, he didn't really have much of a safety net anymore.

He swallowed, turning the corner to the bathroom before immediately tensing as his Spider-Sense began humming in his head. He stilled, watching and listening closely. 

A group of men in suits rounded the corner in front of him, each stopping in alert at the sight of Peter. The one in the lead began adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves like it was a habit, removing his sunglasses and offering a beaming grin his way.

"Hey there, kiddo!" the man shouted across the hall, making his way closer to Peter. Peter looked behind his shoulder to make sure the man was actually speaking to him. "Boy, we didn't think anyone was here. Are you with someone? Like a group? Football, or, uh, drama club?"

"Academic Decathalon," Peter's voice broke a little as he yelled back at him. The man approached until they were no longer shouting-distance. "I-I'm with Mr. Harrington."

"Don't know him," the man shrugged, looking over Peter's shoulder. "We're here from the state. Just coming in to reevaluate, make some budget cuts. I'm actually grateful you've got a group here today, especially since Mr. Morita conveniently isn't anywhere in sight. We'd love to interview your team, you know, really find out who's essential here at the Midtown School of Science and Technology. Whaddya say?"

"Uh, y-yeah," Peter shrugged awkwardly, offering a half-hearted smile to accompany it. "Sure. I can take you back to my teacher, if-if you want."

"Sounds like a plan, squirt."

The man clapped his shoulder as Peter turned on his heel, walking back the way he came. He narrowed his eyes, not forgetting the constant hum of his Spider-Sense as the sound of clicking heels followed him close behind. He wasn't quite sure he bought their story, but if they did make a move against him, it would be their mistake.

He offered another half-smile as he held the door of the cafetorium open for the men, watching suspiciously as they filed into the room, one by one. He followed hot on their heels, watching as each of his classmates immediately tensed in suspension and confusion upon their arrival.

Peter rounded the corner behind the men, shrugging and shaking his head at his friends as if to say, _trust me, I have no idea._

"Uh, excuse me, hello," Mr. Harrington stepped with his phone still raised to his ear, his hand covering the speaker as he spoke. "We're in the middle of a practice, here. Who might you be?"

"Oh, don't mind us," the man in the lead spoke for the group again, pocketing his sunglasses into his suit. His voice boomed and carried out into every inch of the small auditorium. "Nothing to fear. My name is Phil Hartley. We're here on behalf of the state to do some budget reevaluations. I understand this is Academic Decathalon, no?"

The man swung a nonchalant hand in their direction as a gesture to the group, raising an eyebrow. They all nodded slowly.

"Excellent! Just ran into your buddy in the hall here-uh, what was your name again?"

"Uh, P-Peter Parker," Peter stepped forward.

"Yes, uh, ran into Peter Parker here. It's funny-we thought we were the only ones in the building. Isn't that funny?"

Phil's laugh echoed thunderously. A few of the kids laughed rather skittishly. MJ didn't seem convinced. 

"Ah, anyway. I figured, you know, since I've got you all here, I could conduct a couple of interviews to really assess the situation you've got going on down here. Though, being the Academic Decathalon Team at a school of Science and Technology, I gotta say, I think the odds are rootin' in your favor, eh?"

"G-great," Mr. Harrington blurted out, ending the call on his cell phone and pocketing it. He forced a reluctant smile. "Excellent. Yes. This group here is the best of the batch. You got lucky."

"Well, I sure hope so!" Phil cackled again, clapping his hands together and sauntering over. "You're Mr. Harrington?"

"Yeah. Roger," Mr. Harrington extended a hand, shaking Phil's. His nervous, impressed grin remained plastered on his face. "Roger Harrington. Pleasure."

"Great, great. So, uh, I've got some building inspectors and technicians scattered around the building to kick the tires a little bit, but it shouldn't disturb us too much. What do you say we go ahead and get these interviews out of the way, huh?"

"W-well, I mean, we do have a competition to be training for, and-"

"This won't take but two shakes of a stick, my friend."

"Look," Flash laughed with a snort. "Parker brought in an FBI task force so that he could get out of being on the stage. That's a new low."

"I have to agree," MJ stood, her arms crossed. "I told you you weren't getting out of your turn, and you come back with seven guys in suits? What're you up to?"

"Ha-ha," Peter rolled his eyes sarcastically, making his way back to the seat with his bag slung over it. "I've never met these guys. But if it means that much to you, I'll still go."

"You might not want to interview this kid," Flash shouted across to Phil, pointing at Peter. "He's got some serious problems. He just really tarnishes the MSST name."

"I love it," Phil laughed. "I just _love_ this friendly dynamic you've created here!"

"W-What?" Flash stuttered. "No, you could not be more wrong."

"Yeah," Peter grinned menacingly, turning over his shoulder back to Flash. "That's my friend Flash. He's actually my best friend in the whole wide world. Sometimes we even finish each other's..."

Flash deadpanned back to him. Peter continued to grin.

 _Peter Parker one, Flash Thompson zero_.

"Why don't we start with you, then?" Phil motioned Peter's way. "My team and I'll just go ahead and set up shop in the light booth back here if you don't mind. We'll conduct the interviews from there."

Phil gestured back at the technical booth located in the far left of the room. Mr. Harrington shrugged indifferently. Phil clapped his hands together again, the noise resounding every which way. He led the group of men into the light booth as Peter watched them go, studying the men carefully.

"Kids, huddle."

The group of teenagers all shot up from their seats and rushed toward Mr. Harrington in a rehearsed motion, huddling around the man and eyeing each other anxiously.

"I've heard about these guys maybe coming in," Mr. Harrington began debriefing them all. "They're gonna reevaluate the entire staff. Fire everyone who's not essential."

"We won't let that happen," Cindy shook her head frantically. "We're the Academic Decathalon team. We practically run the school."

"Not to these guys. They don't care about numbers or statistics. These suits are _sharks_."

Mr. Harrington swallowed, taking a deep breath in a vain attempt to compose himself.

"They'll try to divide us in our interviews. Find our weaknesses. Look for any excuses they can to cut the team and fire my ass."

"Yeah, listen," Peter cleared his throat. "Despite our...differences, all we have is each other. So, let's, uh...let's stick together here, alright?"

"This is a blood oath, right here," Abe practically growled.

"One for all," Ned stuck his hand out determinedly, sizing up the group of heads around him.

"All for one," Betty finished.

"Peter?" Phil called from the threshold of the booth. Peter shot up from their huddle

"Uh, just uh, lost an earring!" Peter tugged awkwardly at his ear lobe, immediately reprimanding his choice of words. "We're all just trying to-trying to find my-my earring."

Phil waved with a laugh. Peter bit his lip, dropping back to the huddle.

"Jesus, Penis, an earring?"

"Pull yourself together."

"Love you, Peter."

"You've got this."

Peter stood with a recalibrating breath as his classmates and teacher all talked over each other with reassuring words before he was marching as confidently as he could into the light booth. Phil welcomed him with that same beaming grin he'd had on his face the entire time, shutting the door softly behind him.

"Have a seat, Pedro."

Peter fought a wince at the nickname and seated himself in a chair purposefully placed across from two others. Phil sat in one of the empty ones, while the other was occupied by one of the other suits. The other four Peter remembered being with Phil were nowhere in sight.

"Where did the, uh, other guys go?"

"I wanted as many of my guys as possible sizing this place up," Phil explained with a wave of his hand. "So, Peter Parker. I gotta admit, your name sounds awfully familiar. Aren't you Tony Stark's intern? From the news?"

"Y-yeah, I am. I work for him every other day after school."

"Very impressive, Mr. Parker. So, what's a kid like you doing going to Midtown High? Working for Tony Stark, I mean, you must practically have your choice at any university in the world after high school. Does being on this team help that?"

"Well," Peter glanced out of the window of the light booth, just barely being able to see MJ out of the blinds. She was talking with Ned and Cindy, brushing the loose strands of hair out of her face as she continued worriedly eyeing the booth. Peter fought a warm smile itching its way onto his face as his eyes softened, turning back to Phil. "Let's just say, being on the team offers more opportunities than initially meets the eye."

"Really?" Phil nodded, shooting a glance the other suit's way before leaning forward with interest. "For instance?"

"For instance," Peter began, heart rate picking up slightly as he fumbled to come up with anything for the man before Flash caught his eye through a tiny slit in the blinds. He was pacing the stage, a contemplative look on his face as he listened to something Mr. Harrington was saying dramatically to the group. He smiled menacingly despite himself. "I get to work right alongside my best friend, Flash Thompson, every single day."

"Really?" the other suit spoke for the first time, adjusting his sunglasses. "Tell us about him. Is that really his name?"

"Oh, no. I'm pretty sure it's actually something like Eugene. That's just what we call him."

"Oh? And what earned him that name?"

"Pretty sure he got it when he was still on the football team. I've known Flash since kindergarten, but I've really only gotten to know the guy since my Sophomore year. I'm a Junior now, and it's just been a _delight_ working with the guy. He's like a brother to me. He'll tell you the same about me, I'm sure."

"Wow," Phil nodded, impressed. "I'll just be sure to make a note of that. It'll be hard not to."

"Yeah, definitely. He plans on running for team captain next year, but I doubt he'll beat MJ again."

"That's interesting. You know, Pedro, based on your track record, your internship, you're basically the cream of the Midtown crop. Why aren't _you_ the team captain?"

"Because, believe me," Peter's head jerked back slightly with a snicker as he pointed out the window. "The right person already has the job. And, uh..."

Peter frowned. He took a gulp, straightening his posture in an attempt to appear as professional as possible.

"Look, I know that you guys are probably gonna make some changes around here, so...I just want you to know, the Stark internship means nothing compared to those guys out there. I know that I might look good on paper, but I'm not the cream of the crop. Flash, Betty, Cindy, MJ, Abe, Ned...they are. This team is. Academic Decathalon is the spine of MSST."

"We'll keep that in mind," the other suit nodded, sending another glance Phil's way with a raised eyebrow.

"You're a good kid, Pedro. Thanks for coming in."

"Y-yeah, of course," Peter stood, rounding the chair and making his way to the door. Phil followed him with a smile, holding the door open. "Ha-have a good day."

"You too, you too. Take care."

The door shut. Both of the suit's faces immediately hardened. The other suit pulled a file out of his jacket, eyeing it carefully.

"So, you really think this... _Flash_ kid is Agent X's son?"

"Oh, he's Thompson's alright," Phil rounded the corner of a table placed in the middle of the booth. "Looks like Agent X left behind a messy trail."

"Should we abort the mission?"

"No, no. We might've just hit the jackpot, Neil. With his kid here and the base hidden somewhere in the building, it's our best chance to infiltrate and recover everything he has on us. Plus, Stark's kid here? Please. We have Agent X's son and _Spider-Man_. We really lucked out this time."

Three more men walked into the room. One wore what looked like a janitor's jumpsuit, one wore civilian clothes with a tool bag slung over his shoulder, and one wore a maintenance jumpsuit.

"Have you found the entrance into Agent X's base yet?"

"No."

"We don't have much time," Phil growled. "We have to find it fast."

"Parker is his friend," Neil stated. "Should we take him out? Use him for some negotiating?"

"No," Phil narrowed his eyes in thought. "Not yet, anyway. Let's keep interviewing them and make sure Agent X didn't leave any other surprises behind."

Phil sauntered over to the booth window with one hand in his pocket, the other reaching forward to part one of the slits in the blinds as he watched the kids carefully. They were all huddled around Peter, listening to his every word.

"Parker said Thompson was his best friend. We can use both of them to our advantage."

"What do you want me to do about the others?" Neil asked.

"I think we need to be conservative here."

Phil removed his hands from the blinds, turning back to the group of men with a shrug.

"Terminate the rest when we're through."

* * *

"So, Mr. 'Flash' Thompson. Tell us about-"

"Okay, listen close, and listen good."

Phil and the suit were both startled as Flash leaned forward, his gaze deadly.

"Before I spill this place's dirty secrets, I want to know that I'm protected. I want diplomatic immunity."

"I-I don't think it's appropriate in this situation to-"

"Nah-ah-ah," Flash waved an arm to silence the suit. "You want the dirt? I want immunity."

Flash crossed his arms, his chin raised. Phil raised an eyebrow with a tilt of his head. 

"O-okay," Phil shrugged. "Immunity granted."

"Oh, awesome," Flash physically melted in relief, leaning back in his chair and resting an elbow on the back of it. "Thanks. You will not believe the kind of stuff I've had on my plate around here. I carry this team on my bare shoulders, you wouldn't believe it."

Phil and the suit both eyed each other with a groan.

* * *

"Roger Harrington?"

Mr. Harrington all but jumped at the exclamation, waving at Phil from the apron of the stage with a nervous smile.

"I'll be right up!"

"Geez," Peter chirped up from his chair beside MJ, his head craned over to the auditorium entrance where two suits were discussing. "You hear that? They said they're even gonna search the lockers in the teacher break room. Who are these guys?"

"You heard that?" MJ narrowed her eyes. "I can't hear a word they're saying."

"Shit," Mr. Harrington muttered under his breath, snapping his gaze back to Flash, who sat directly beside him on the lip of the apron, mindlessly dangling his feet against the brick wall. "Flash, listen. You hear that? They're searching the teacher's lockers. They're really serious about shutting us down. They're using a fine-tooth comb here. Now, listen to me carefully. I need you to go to the break room and get something out of my locker before they can get to it. Some contraband of mine."

"Are you serious?" Flash couldn't help the smirk tugging on his lip. "What kind of contraband?"

"Just-just a little something I use to take the edge off on a stressful day."

"For _real_?!"

"If they find it, I'll be fired for sure."

"Mr. Harrington?" Phil beckoned again, waving a hand in his direction. Mr. Harrington held a finger up his way with a skittish smile.

"Flash," he said carefully, holding a key up with trembling hands. " _please_. You're the only one I trust."

"Yeah, okay," Flash nodded, taking the key in his hand. "But only if you let me be team captain next year."

"Anything you want. Just never, ever tell anyone about this. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Coming!" Mr. Harrington made his way up the steps to the light booth, patting Phil's shoulder nervously as the door shut behind him.

* * *

"Roger Harrington. You've assembled quite the team here."

"Oh, they scare me, too," Mr. Harrington joked. Phil and Neil faked a laugh. "But I got Parker, don't I? That's right: a kid with a Stark internship is studying _here_! You see, gentlemen, I'm not just a teacher: I'm a people person. And with an Academic Decathalon National Championship under my belt, under this _team_ 's belt...well, what can I say? Talent follows me."

Phil and Neil threw their heads back with reverberant laughs. Mr. Harrington nodded successfully.

* * *

Flash opened the locker as quietly as he could, immediately muffling a laugh into his sleeve.

The door of Mr. Harrington's locker was completely covered in photos and cut-outs of a woman's face, one who Flash assumed to be Tabatha. He and the rest of the team probably knew more about this Tabatha woman than she knew herself, and that thought alone sent shivers up Flash's spine.

"Oh, my god."

He bit his lip with a sinister grin when he was finished digging through the locker's contents, his eyes finally laid upon the "contraband." A vape was wrapped discreetly in one of Mr. Harrington's sweaters, toppling out of the heap of clothing and making a reverberating clank as it hit the metal below. He didn't even bother taking it out, rolling his eyes with a scoff and slamming the door shut. 

_That's what you decide to lose sleep over? A vape?_

Flash suddenly stilled, snapping his head toward the door as he heard footsteps approaching from the hall. He cursed under his breath, snapping his head back and forth in search of a hiding spot.

"Let's see what we can find in the breakroom."

He winced and opted for the sliver of space located between the vending machine and the wall. He stood completely still as the door to the break room opened and two men emerged, one wearing civilian clothes with a satchel draped over his shoulder and the other wearing a janitor's jumpsuit.

The one with the satchel stood in front of the set of lockers with a camera. He held the camera in place directly in front of the center. The camera emitted a faint beep.

"Found something," the one with the camera said. "There's a tunnel behind these lockers."

Flash's eyes widened, his stomach clenched as he watched them. The man with the camera shifted its focus to the side, emitting another beep from the device.

"Fingerprint scanner. Go get Agents Hartley and Neil, this must be it. Tell them we've found the CIA base."

The janitor nodded and left the room. Every muscle in Flash's body went rigid as the man before him began taking out wires from his satchel, holding a peculiar device in his hand and plugging a wire in from the jack of the device into the lock of Mr. Harrington's locker. He plugged a few numbers into the keypad of the device and took a step back.

Flash shot a hand up to his mouth to suppress a gasp as the next few moments seemed to pass by in slow motion.

The series of lockers began to open in one clump like they were a door. Behind the door, a long, never-ending tunnel loomed ahead. The man with the satchel let out a breath of surprise as the door to the breakroom opened, Phil, Neil, and the janitor emerging from the threshold.

"Very good work," Phil clapped the satchel man's shoulder, nodding determinedly ahead at the hallway before turning over his shoulder at the group. "I'll be sure to fill Mr. Del in on your heroics during this mission. Tell the others that we've found Agent X's base."

The men filed in after him one by one, the last one in being the satchel guy who, after slinging his bag back over his shoulder more firmly, eyed the door of the breakroom skeptically before following. 

Flash felt as if time had suddenly stopped as he watched the clump of lockers begin to mechanically seal shut. He bit his lip, glancing frantically from the door of the breakroom to the door of the _CIA base hidden in the walls of his school and holy shit, hurry, it's going to close!_

He made a split-second decision and slid through the secret door, swallowing bile as it sealed shut behind him.

* * *

Peter sat in agonizing boredom as he found himself staring at the clock yet again.

It was four-thirty now. He could technically leave in thirty minutes, but he wasn't sure if he should leave his friends to be interviewed by these strangers that he still had his suspicions about, and Mr. Harrington simply could not be left alone in his frantic state. Peter watched in concern as Mr. Harrington discussed with Abe, Betty, Ned, and MJ. They were all listening to something on MJ's phone.

"What's uh, what's going on?" Peter approached the group with a frown. 

"Peter, please," Abe didn't grace his presence with eye contact. "This is a spy mission. Vigilante stuff. You are far from qualified."

Ned glanced up at Peter with a snicker.

"My spy work paid off," MJ informed him. "Obviously. I mic'd the light booth."

"What do you mean you mic'd it? When did you have time to do that?"

"Well, not really mic'd as much as I set my phone to record and then placed it on the window sill of the booth. All I got was a few seconds, but it was just enough to hear the important stuff."

Peter leaned forward with intrigue as she pressed play again.

" _Parker said Thompson is his best friend. We can use both of them to our advantage_."

" _What do you want me to do about the others_?"

" _I think we need to be conservative here. Terminate the rest when we're through_."

Peter stiffened as he took in the information, eyeing Ned in concern. 

_That doesn't sound like something a school district budget specialist would say at all_.

"They're gonna kick out everyone in the school except you and Flash!" Betty cried, burying her face in her hands. Ned rubbed her back in soothing circles.

"Where is Flash...?"

Peter turned around his shoulder, scanning the room carefully. Cindy was getting interviewed, and besides that, there was no Flash in sight.

His Spidey-Sense began to warn him with more of a vengeance now.

_Something is seriously off about this._

* * *

The deeper Flash ventured into the belly of the beast, the more he felt like he was never going to see the light of day again.

At this point, yeah, maybe he was being a little dramatic. But he felt that it was completely warranted because there was a CIA base built underneath his school, and the men in suits _definitely_ weren't state budget specialists, nor did they appear to be the CIA operatives that ran the secret base. He wasn't sure who the bad guys were, wasn't sure if he should stop them from meddling in business they clearly weren't supposed to be meddling in, but nevertheless, he crawled forward on his knees, his hands trembling as he craned his head around the corner of one of the long hallways, eyes growing the size of dinner plates at the sight before him.

The men from before were working in a room full of monitors and computers, typing information into them at the speed of light. The two men that had interviewed him, Phil and Neil, were watching over the room like hawks, their hands casually in their pockets.

"Every piece of intelligence Agent X has on the Ring is in here. We'll be plunging a dagger through the heart of the joint CIA-SHIELD operation by taking it out."

Flash shot a hand up to his mouth.

_SHIELD?!_

"Alright, Neil. You're on. Cut off any and all communications coming in and out of the school. Break into the mainframe, find and destroy everything they have on us."

Phil turned to face Neil head-on, a grim look of satisfaction on his face as he handed the man a clipboard. Flash placed a hand on his chest, swearing that all voices and sound has suddenly started to echo and become distorted.

"Then, blow this base sky high."

"Be a pleasure."

* * *

Peter rounded the corners of one of the hallways, fidgeting nervously with his fingers. His mind was practically racing at one hundred miles an hour now, what with Tony's conversation still a fresh sore on his mind and Flash nowhere in sight and the state auditor's officially not what they seemed to be at first glance. His head was throbbing in pain and he wanted nothing more than to get home to Tony and eat a juice pop with Morgan and enjoy one of Pepper's home-cooked meals and talk on the phone with May for an hour about how his day went and-

"Peter!"

Peter's head shot up at the call, watching as Flash jogged frantically toward him. His eyes were wide and sweat was slowly running down the side of his face. 

"Fla-"

"Nuh-uh-uh," Flash shot a hand up to Peter's mouth before he could finish. "Me first, Penis. Trust me, whatever you're gonna say is nothing compared to what I got."

Peter nodded, his eyes matching Flash's intensity as Flash carefully removed his hand from Peter's mouth, though he placed two hands firmly on Peter's shoulders. Flash looked carefully behind his shoulder and then over Peter's.

"Fine, yeah, sure. What's up?"

"Okay, okay...so, you know how you've been wanting something exciting to happen to you your whole life, Parker? You know, something to take away the dull, throbbing pain of your boring existence?"

" _Hey_ -"

"Okay, well, I've got it for you man, cause, uh...dude, there is a secret, underground CIA-SHIELD base under _this building_!"

Logically, Peter knew that he should remain calm, that Flash could be pulling his leg.

But with Peter's Spider-Sense already off its hinges, he found that he felt ice shoot through his entire body instead, through every vein. He stilled completely, his hands still suspended in front of him. Flash let out sputtering, nervous laughs, feeding off of Peter's shock as if to say _good, yes, what I saw was real because I just spoke it into existence and someone else is hearing it_.

But then Peter still wasn't saying anything, his eyes still wide as he seemed to be rejecting the information he was hearing, and Flash began to panic.

"Woah, hey, listen, I know it sounds crazy, but you have to believe me here, okay? These people who are claiming to buy the school or whatever, they're bad guys. And they call themselves 'the Ring.' Which I know is, like, not scary, but trust me, these guys are not to be messed with."

The Ring. _Holy shit, the Ring_. Peter had dealt with the Ring a lot in the past few months, primarily with burglaries. They were cutthroat, they were ruthless, and they didn't hesitate to kill to get what they wanted.

"Uh, how do you-how do you _know_ all of this, Flash?"

"Okay, uh, I was hiding in there. In the teacher's breakroom. Mr. Harrington asked me to grab something for him, whatever. Anyway, I saw them enter the base through this weird entrance behind the teacher's _lockers_! So...I followed them."

Peter's jaw dropped despite himself.

"A-and I heard and I saw _everything_ , man. Now, okay, look, I know this is a lot to take in, and I can't believe I'm saying this right now, but Penis, you gotta stay with me. You gotta pull yourself together. 'Cause we are now in _real_ danger here, alright?"

Peter summoned all of the composure in him required to offer a nervous, awkward half-smile, though he still found himself completely speechless which, without his suit, made him useless, too.

"I think we should call the police."

Peter's focus honed back into Flash's panic and an idea struck him as he fumbled his trembling hand into his jean pocket, pulling out his cell phone.

"That's a great idea. That is a great idea, man. Wow. Yeah, yeah, yeah."

Peter began scrolling through his contacts until he found Tony's, pressing the phone symbol next to his picture.

"Wait a minute..."

Peter stepped around Flash and raised his phone up in the air, panic settling deep into his bones.

"I don't-I don't have a signal."

"Right," Flash breathed out in disappointment. "Right. Bad guys cut off all communication to the school. Makes perfect sense. You know what? By the time the cops got here, it'd be too late anyway."

Peter raised an eyebrow at Flash's implications.

" _We_ need to handle this. Now."

"No, no, no, no, no," Peter lunged for Flash's arm in his frenzied state before he could walk any further. " _We_ don't need to do anything except get everyone out of the school."

Peter began marching past Flash and back to the cafetorium. Flash lunged for Peter's arm this time.

"Penis, these men are trying to blow up a CIA base under our school! Okay? We are Midtown's-no- _America_ 's last line of defense. And we are gonna take the fight to them."

"Flash!" Peter hissed, pointing two fingers to his ears. " _Listen_ to yourself right now! This is not a video game! This is real life! People, our _friends_ , could get hurt! There is no restart from last checkpoint!"

"I understand that you're scared," Flash shrugged knowingly, as if he had known that this would be the outcome of their entire argument. "And that not everybody has the stomach to be a hero. So, I'll just go see if MJ and Ned want to help and, well..."

Flash shrugged, marching past Peter with his chin raised.

"Okay, okay, fine, fine, fine."

Peter stopped Flash with an iron grip, spinning him around so that they were face-to-face. Flash crossed his arms impatiently.

"I will help you on one condition. We get everyone else out of the school first, and what you've told me remains a secret between the two of us."

Flash contemplated for a moment before nodding determinedly.

"Yes. Yeah, you know what? No need to put everyone else at risk. I can't believe that I'm saying this, but... _we_ will handle this, Penis."

"Yeah, that's my other condition. Call me by my real name, or I'll lock you in the CIA base when it blows."

"Yeah, okay. If your pride is really that fragile. This secret is locked down...Peter."

Peter fought a smile, fist-bumping Flash before taking off with him and jogging back toward the cafetorium.

* * *

"What the _hell_ are you guys doing?!"

Peter and Flash stood with incredulous eyes as the Decathalon team strategically placed backpacks, chairs, textbooks, tables, and more against the glass double-doors located just outside of the cafetorium, in turn barricading their only unlocked exit in the entire building. Peter stood with his shoulders permanently tensed in suspension, looking to MJ and Ned for any explanation.

"We're locking down the school, Pietro. We're refusing to leave until they promise Mr. Harrington a job and they guarantee immunity for the Aca-Dec team."

"No, g-guys that is a very-please, don't do that!"

Peter watched helplessly as Betty and Cindy lifted a very large box of frozen food from the cafeteria, placing it into the mess of a barricade and successfully sealing them in.

"Stop! Stop putting things down! Look, locking down the school is a very, very, _very_ bad idea, okay?"

"You two want to turn tail and run?" Mr. Harrington snapped, and Peter noticed that he had abandoned his blazer and tied his tie around his head like a sweatband. "Fine. I'm staying here and fighting for my job."

MJ and Ned both clapped Mr. Harrington's shoulder supportively, nodding at their handiwork of a barricade with satisfaction.

"Mr. Harrington, seriously?! Listen, everyone: taking over MSST is not only illegal, but it's very, very dangerous. Trust me!"

"The only thing dangerous about this is if they try to shut down the team," Abe approached from the hallway, a handful of Nerf guns in his arms. He dropped them, letting them scatter across the tile floor. "They're gonna have to do it over dead bodies."

"What!"

"These district fat cats think that they can take whatever they want. They can take our dignity. They can take our money. But they will _not_ take my job!"

Mr. Harrington turned toward the group of students, who each yielded a Nerf gun. Peter and Flash watched in defeat, shaking their heads.

"And they will _never take our school_!"

His declaration received various whoops and hollers from the teenagers, who all joined hands and stared down their barricade in triumph. Peter and Flash slowly turned to one another with dread, their shoulders dropping in the face of their downfall.

"We are so screwed."

* * *

"Hello? Can anyone hear me?"

Peter lifted his cellphone in the air every which way in a vain attempt to catch any sort of signal. He jogged over to a window, holding the device with a quivering hand as he looked up and down the hall to make sure he wasn't being followed. 

" _Pe...er? Peter? Hello?_ "

Peter let out a numbing breath of relief, holding a hand over his chest. He had never been so grateful to hear Tony's voice in that moment, regardless of their prior conversation.

"Oh, thank god," Peter licked suddenly dry lips, bringing the phone to his ear. "Thank god. Listen, I-"

" _Hey, kid. Look, I know what you're going to say, but I don't want you to_."

"No-what? Mr. Stark, you don't understand-"

" _I do now, kiddo. I shouldn't have asked you to just give up Spider-Man like that. I know first-hand how difficult it is to get rid of a suit. You know, it's funny, Pepper and I kind of had the same situation a while back_ -"

"Mr. Stark, please listen to me for just five seconds-"

" _Look, do me a favor: don't interrupt me when I'm apologizing. I just- I don't admit when I've screwed the pooch. You're getting the inside scoop here, don't take it for granted, alright? So, listen kiddo, as I was saying_ -"

"Tony!" Peter all but roared, abandoning all hopes of being discreet as his voice thundered across the entire hallway. "Listen to me! I am locked inside of my school with my friends and a bunch of Ring operatives posing as state auditors! There's a joint CIA-SHIELD base underneath the building and they're going to blow it up any second now! I'm pretty sure they're armed, and I can't put my suit on because everyone will notice if I disappear! I need _help_!"

" _W-w_ _hat? Peter?_ _Peter!_ "

Peter's Spider-Sense began blaring in his skull, but he didn't have enough time to think as he was turning around only to stare down the barrel of a handgun. He stilled, looking up at the owner of the weapon. It was one of the suits, his sunglasses still resting on his nose as he clicked the safety off.

" _Kid, what's going on-!_ "

At the cock of the gun, Peter turned the phone off and pocketed it slowly, raising his hands in the air in surrender.

"Okay, it's okay," he muttered, swallowing thickly and closing his eyes as his heart hammered violently in his chest. "No need to-to do anything rash."

"Who'd you call?" the man smirked, tilting his head. "Tony Stark? You call for back-up, _Spider-Man_?"

Peter felt a cold wind run right through him as he continued to stare, every inch of his skin crawling. The cold barrel of the gun now rested on the bridge of his nose. He knew he didn't really have much of a choice at that rate.

"Oh, good," Peter breathed out in fake relief. "You know me. I always hate introductions."

In one swift movement, Peter swung his hand in front of his face, successfully sending the gun flying to the ground before he was landing a blow to the man's nose with the heel of his hand, knocking him unconscious. He gasped out in shock at his own actions, jumping up on his feet and sprinting down the hallway before he was suddenly rounding the corner and crashing into Flash, sending both of them falling back on their asses.

"Woah, Parker, chill," Flash grunted upon standing, extending his hand to help Peter onto his feet. "Okay, so, I got some supplies."

Once Peter was balanced, he took in Flash's ridiculous get-up from head to toe, staring in alarm

Flash wore a sash over his chest with various cans of pepper spray clipped to it. He held a can in Peter's face.

"This is for you. Mace. Coach Wilson kept a stockpile in case the Russians attacked. This is for you also. Found it in Ms. Warren's locker. Walkie-Talkies. You ready to do this? Let's do this."

"No, no, no, no, wait," Peter fumbled as his brain struggled to catch up. All he knew was that not only were these men armed, but now, it was about much more than just saving the school.

These men knew Spider-Man's identity.

"Listen, uh...on second thought, I-I don't think that we should do this."

"No, maybe you're right. Yeah, let's get out of here. Right? Maybe grab a little burger, or..."

Flash almost had Peter convinced. That's how out of touch with reality Peter's brain began to feel.

"Are you _kidding_ me, Parker?! Men are trying to blow up a CIA base here, okay? Time is running out. Time to step up."

Flash made a move to walk past Peter. Peter side-stepped into his path, placing a firm hand on his chest.

"No, no, Flash; you don't _want_ to do this, okay? They're armed. Trust me, you don't understand."

"No, I think I _do_ understand," Flash scoffed, unsurprised. "You've been a loser your whole entire life, but everyone here still adores you. Well, I'm done dealing with that, okay? Time for _me_ to be a hero."

Peter's heart sank as Flash bumped into his shoulder and marched forward, his cans of Mace ready to fire.

He stopped before rounding the corner when the faint sound of a gun being cocked echoed throughout the hall, freezing Flash right in his place. Peter turned on his heel in an instant, standing beside Flash protectively. Flash had stilled completely, glancing just enough to see the owner of the gun. It was one of the suits, the one Peter had knocked unconscious moments prior, blood gushing from his nose and his sunglasses cracked. Another man, the one with the satchel, appeared, also cocked his gun and aiming it at Peter.

"But-but what is a hero, really?" Flash croaked with a nervous smile, side-eyeing the weapon suspended beside him as it softly nudged the side of his skull. 

Peter slowly raised his hands in surrender, staring at Flash until he did the same, dropping the cans of pepper spray and the walkie talkies.

 _We are so, so, so monumentally screwed_.

* * *

"It's your fault we're here."

"Oh, give me a break."

Peter rolled his eyes in annoyance, leaning his head back and immediately bonking it against Flash's. Peter and Flash sat with their backs to each other on the ground, their hands tied behind them. They were sitting in one of the empty CIA base rooms underground. Peter's heart hammered in his chest, but it was nothing compared to the rapid thunder of Flash's heart behind him.

"Well, maybe if _you_ had just listened to me and not charged in here without a plan, then we wouldn't be here in the first place. Hm? Ever think of that?"

"You're not so sweet and innocent either, Penis, alright? You were acting like a chicken, just as I suspected. I knew, I just _knew_ you were gonna flake. As soon as I said 'CIA,' I knew it."

"I was not being a chicken! I was being logical! What did you think we would accomplish, just the two of us? They're armed, Flash! They have real, actual guns! With real bullets!"

"No, shit! You wouldn't understand this, Parker, but there comes a time in your life where you have to lay your life on the line for your country. Like Captain America. Or Tony Stark."

"Well, I'm not Tony Stark."

"Yeah, that's for damn sure."

Peter shook his head in disbelief, fighting the way his heart sank slightly at the accusation.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat and opted instead to continue fidgeting with his restraints. On one hand, he could honestly just rip his cuffs off of his wrists with ease, snapping them in half and making his escape. On the other hand, that would completely expose his identity, and Flash would only slow down his escape.

"Would you stop moving around so damn much? Unless you just gained super-strength, we're not getting out of here anytime soon."

Peter sighed, looking up at the ceiling of the room. Defeat settled into his stomach and he leaned against Flash, feeling the weight of the world sitting heavy on his shoulders.

He just prayed Tony had heard enough of his message to send help.

"Can I ask you something, Parker?"

"I mean," Peter scoffed, "it's now or never, I guess. What?"

"Uh, when you got blipped, did your Aunt get blipped, too?"

"Yeah," Peter nodded thoughtfully, furrowing his brow. "Why do you ask?"

"No, it's just...uh, you know, I was the only one in my family that got blipped."

"Wow. I'm, uh...I'm sorry, man. That must've been really hard on your parents."

"Yeah, well, that's just it," Flash laughed bitterly, speaking through his teeth. "It wasn't. Hard on them."

"Uh..."

Peter wasn't sure how to respond, wasn't sure if Flash being intimate and vulnerable with him would only blow up in his gullible face.

He chose to find the good in him instead, as he always tended to. 

"I-I'm sure that's not true, man. You can't know for sure."

"I do know. They don't really notice me now that I'm back, they've threatened to stop paying for me to go here, and...I dunno. I guess-I guess I just thought, you know, maybe if I did this one thing, this one, noble thing, they would see that I have value. They would talk to me more. I would be more to them than a straight-a student."

Peter nodded in understanding. He knew the feeling, in his own distinct, unique way. Those two months after Germany trying to prove himself to Tony, devoting himself to a made-up schedule revolving around a man that barely gave him the time of day, only to get his suit taken away and have a building be thrown on top of him...well, it sucked.

"I know what you mean. Kind of."

"Do you?" Flash scoffed, shaking his head. Peter could practically hear Flash's sarcastic smile in his biting words.

"Flash-"

" _Everyone_ at this school loves you, Parker. Everyone. The team prefers you, a-and MJ clearly has a crush on you, and you're smart, and you work for Tony freaking Stark, supposedly, and...I have to put my all into everything I do for even a fraction of the attention you get for just existing. And it's like, I'm smart too, you know? And I'm in this school full of geniuses, but I'm _never_ seen as the smart one. Just the fast one. But having a cool car, and wearing cool clothes...it doesn't sell here. I don't get recognized for my academics here, so I just try to find approval some other way. At first, it was football, but then that didn't really work out, and it's like...it's like, there's nothing I can do to get approval. Not from you, not from my friends, not from my family..."

Peter stared ahead in concern as he took in Flash's every word, held onto them with an iron grip, his hands instinctually fisted behind his back. Flash hung his head with a sigh, shrugging.

"Not even dying was enough for them."

"Flash, c'mon...listen, man, I...honestly, I'll admit, you've been a bully. You've been _my_ bully ever since high school started. But...I mean, you know, bullies don't come out of nowhere, you know? Someone always hurts them first. And, I mean, you know that I would never say anything to you to hurt you on purpose, no matter how many times I really wanted to. You know that you could've just told me all of this, and I wouldn't be upset with you. I know what it's like to feel like you're not enough for your family, man. I know that feeling really, really well. Just...you know, if we ever make it out of this, I'm here for you. You know that?"

Flash stayed silent for a few beats. Peter held his breath in suspense.

"I-"

Before Flash could even begin, Phil was walking into the room, followed by a group of suits. Flash and Peter immediately tensed, their hearts racing.

"You're all alone, both of you. Spider-Man, offspring of Agent X. I've locked down the base."

"Uh, sir," Flash licked his lips, fidgeting in his restraints, " _who_ are you talking to? Okay? You're crazy! We're kids! Let us go!"

Peter watched with wide eyes as the man that had been interrogating him from before, Phil, was brandishing a razor blade against a patch of leather. Any of his prior facade of jubilation was completely gone now, leaving only the remains of a bloodthirsty man.

"This is absolutely ridiculous. Listen to me. We go to school at the Midtown School of Science and Technology. MSST, alright? A-and if you just-if you let us go, I promise, we're not gonna tell anyone what you're doing here. Tell him, Peter!"

Peter remained silent, his mouth dry. Flash scoffed.

"For the love of god, Parker, I'm sorry, but for once in your life can you do something noble?!"

"Remember what we said, Flash," Peter muttered in a whisper. "Our secret has to stay locked down."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure we're going to die here, Peter, so, y'know, no time for secrets."

Phil finally turned to face them, the razor held firmly in his grip. Both Peter and Flash became completely motionless at the sight of it.

"That...is a really sharp-looking razor."

"We've searched the base's mainframe," Phil started, sauntering Peter's way. "Agent X's files aren't there. But we know that he's hiding them here."

Phil crouched down directly in front of Peter, the razor suspended above Peter's pale face. 

"We assume you work for SHIELD. Tell us where the files are, Spider-Man. Trust me, the alternative is extremely unpleasant."

"Uh," Peter tried to mask the fact that his whole body was shaking but found that it was only amplified in his voice, "I-I don't think there's any need for torture right now. Because-because even if I was Spider-Man, or I was a spy for SHIELD, which I'm _not_ , but even if I was, my training would've taught me to _withstand_ torture. See what I mean? So, I don't think your tactics will have any real lasting effect on me."

Phil stared into Peter's eyes, unfazed.

"That's why I'm gonna torture _him_."

Peter's heart leaped to his throat, his shoulders tensing. He heard Flash's heart skip a beat behind him. Phil rose from his crouch with a smirk, rounding over to Flash's side.

"Even though we didn't expect you to be here, Spider-Man, you made the mistake of telling us that Agent X's son here was your best friend," Phil crouched down to Flash's level, suspending the razor in front of his face.

"He said _what_ about me?"

"For the last time; where are the files, Spider-Man?"

"Wait, guys, guys, _please_ ," Flash implored. "Listen to me. This is... _ridiculous_ , okay? There is no Agent X, first of all. My dad is just a businessman. He's never home, but I think I would know if he was a CIA agent, okay? And I've known _this_ guy my entire life, alright? Parker and I have gone to school together since we were six. Peter Parker is _not_ Spider-Man!"

Phil lurched a hand forward and held Flash's jaw in his grip, pressing the razor against his cheekbone. Flash's eyes practically bulged out of his head as Phil's hand muffled his cries of alarm, but they didn't spare Peter in the slightest. 

"Peter, now or never. Tell us."

"Peter! Please! Tell them anything!"

"C'mon, Spider-Man. Are you really gonna let him get hurt?"

"Peter! Help! Help!"

"Wait, wait, _wait_!" Peter finally complied, crying out over the excruciating sound as his chest heaved out panicked breaths. "Stop, stop, please, just stop."

Phil lowered his grip on Flash, craning his head over to Peter impatiently.

"Well?"

"Flash," Peter started, licking his lips as he stared ahead with agonizing trepidation. "Do-don't freakout, Flash. The truth is..."

Flash sat completely still, staring ahead in suspense as Peter regained himself.

"I-I'm not just Tony Stark's kid intern. And I didn't have a family emergency in Washington, and I didn't just ditch Liz at the homecoming dance. I..."

The tension grew so thick it could be cut with a knife as Flash held his breath, shaking his head. Phil simply watched on in knowing satisfaction.

"I'm Spider-Man, Flash."

* * *

"Talk to me, Tony."

"It's at Peter's school."

Steve pressed his foot down harder on the accelerator as he snaked his way through traffic in Queens. He tossed his cell phone into the cupholder after putting it on speaker, amplifying Tony's desperate, hysterical breaths on the other line.

"What's the situation?"

"Yeah, uh, remember that little SHIELD base Fury tried to get running under MSST? Y'know, before the Snap?"

"Tony..."

"Yeah. Never quite got it up and running, but a CIA agent with the pseudonym 'Agent X' decided to set up shop there while it was vacant, and now a group of well-known Spider-Man _and_ SHIELD enemies, known better by their friends as 'The Ring,' are there to blow it up and all of its intelligence. Oh and, to make things more exciting, I did some digging. Agent X's real name is Harrison Thompson, and his son's name is Eugene Thompson. In other words, two incredibly valuable assets are both locked in a building with a group of men who want to kill them."

"That won't happen. It's gonna be fine, Tony. With any luck, I could get clearance into the base with my credentials. Are you on your way?"

"Yeah, driving as fast as I can from the cabin."

"Don't, Tony. Just go slow. Relax. I'll make sure he's okay. All of them."

"Cap, I love you, but shut up. My kid is in there with no suit and no way of communication. I'm gonna floor it the entire way if I have to."

Steve sighed, reaching a hand down and ending the call as he pulled up in front of the gates of MSST. He noticed right away the black SUVs parked outside of it without any plates. His eyes narrowed as he climbed out of the car, making his way to the locked gates.

The sun was beginning to set over Queens as heavy, purple clouds began rolling in from the east. The air outside was thick with moisture, indicating an oncoming storm. A light breeze caught a couple of leaves as they blew past Steve's path. If not for the circumstances, he would honestly take a moment to breathe it in, to remember all of the work and lives it took to get the universe returned to this semblance of normalcy.

Instead, he broke the lock on the MSST gate with a yank of the chain and pushed it open, the creaking of the gate reverberating throughout the courtyard. He approached the front doors of the school with caution, noticing right away through the glass that the front doors of the building were being barricaded from the inside by various tables, chairs, desks, and bags. He craned his head to get a better view inside.

He suppressed a yelp of surprise as styrofoam bullets began pelleting the section of the glass door that wasn't barricaded. His entire body stiffened into a fighting position out of habit before he recalibrated with a glare, staring inside in search of the potential executors.

"Cease fire!" a frantic voice shouted from inside. "Cease fire! Hold-hold your fire!"

A man with a beard stumbled in front of the barricade wearing a button-down under a sweater vest. His tie was strapped around his head, his pale face dripping with sweat. He immediately stilled upon taking in the man behind the door.

"Captain America?!"

"What the hell is going on here?" Steve yelled back through the glass, looking around as various teenagers in yellow blazers began emerging from behind flipped tables, Nerf guns held firmly in their grips.

"Our school has been infiltrated," MJ spoke up with a shrug, slinging her gun over her shoulder. "They're gonna can all of the teachers and the Aca-Dec team."

"We're staging a revolution, Captain," Abe declared, his chest puffed out. "To take down 'The Man.'"

"Is Peter Parker in here?" Steve raised an eyebrow as he scanned the room. "Or Eugene Thompson?"

"Haven't seen them in a while," Mr. Harrison bit his lip nervously, sending a glance down the hallway to his right. "I actually-I have no idea where they are."

"I want in," Steve's voice boomed. He watched as Betty and Cindy exchanged stupefied glances, lowering their guns.

"Y-you do?" Ned chirped, narrowing his eyes.

"I do. Hello, Edward. I hope you're well."

"M-my friends call me Ned, Mr. Captian, sir. And thank you, I am."

Steve nodded with a smile, sending him a two-fingered salute. Ned returned the gesture.

" _Awesome_."

"Hang on," MJ held up a hand, an unconvinced glare still resting in her eyes. "How do we know that we can trust you? That you're not some kind of spy sent from the inside?"

"Because the only thing I hate more than neo-conservative fascist anarchists are the hypocrite fat-cat suits they eventually grow up to become."

MJ nodded impressively.

"Yep, that works for me," Cindy shrugged, tossing her gun to the ground. "Good point. Nice chat."

"Welcome aboard, Captain America," Ned nodded at him determinedly, crawling over the barricade rather unceremoniously as he began attempting to clear a path for the Avenger in vain. Steve simply watched with a raised brow.

 _Lordy_.

* * *

"You're Spider-Man?"

"You remember what I just said about freaking out? Because you're doing that right now, and I need you to not."

"You're...a _superhero_?"

"Stay with me, man, okay?"

"You're lying," Flash shook his head frantically. "No way. You're completely lying. You're just telling them what they want to hear."

"Oh, really?" Phil raised an eyebrow, glancing back to the suits standing in the threshold and beckoning one of them forward. The suit walked forward, a yellow Jansport backpack in his grip.

Peter's heart sank for the millionth time that day.

"No, don't-"

"Go ahead and show him what we found in the bag, Hadley."

The agent opened the bag, completely emotionless. The contents spilled out onto the ground in front of Flash.

A Physics textbook. A notebook. A package of gum. Some headphones. 

And, unmistakably, a bright-red mask with notorious black and white eyes, a webbed pattern wrapped around it. 

Peter heard Flash's heart stop beating altogether.

"No, no, no, no, no."

"Flash, c'mon, stay with me, man, okay?"

"You're Spider-Man."

"Yeah, but that's not important right now, okay?"

"You-you're really-you're actually-"

"You two can kiss and make up later," Phil snapped, raising his hand back up to Flash's neck and holding the razor just below Flash's eye. "Where are Agent X's files?! Now, Spider-Man!"

"We've got visitors."

Everyone snapped toward one of the suit's voices coming from the threshold of the room. He stood with his hands crossed in front of him, his shoulders tense in suspense.

"Captain Rogers decided to join the party. Stark may not be far behind."

Peter physically melted with relief. 

"Captain America is _here_?!"

"Well," Phil stood begrudgingly, folding his razor and rising to his feet. "It appears you two have a lot of catching up to do. Excuse me while I take care of your friend. We'll save the torture for later."

Phil left the room, the agents following hot on his heels. Peter and Flash were once again left alone in deafening silence.

"No, no, no, no, no," Flash let out in one breath. "I can't-I can't believe it. All this time, you-you kept this a secret?"

"I mean, y-yeah. I had to. You have to understand, I-"

"It makes perfect sense...why you always just disappeared. You, being in Washington, a-and ditching Liz at the dance, and..."

Flash snapped his head back to the best of his ability, trying in vain to get a good look at Peter.

"You stole my dad's car!"

"Oh, god. Look, you don't understand, man, that was-"

"I was grounded for a month because of that!"

"I'm sorry!"

"You arrested Liz's dad! Y-you're the reason she had to move away! That is _not_ okay, dude."

"That-that was different. I didn't know that Liz's dad was the Vulture when I asked her out. I swear. That was one of the worst nights of my entire life, Flash."

"Why couldn't you just keep it to yourself, then? Why did you have to go after the guy?"

"Because he knew who I was! He threatened my friends and family! Not going after him would've gone against everything I've lived by since my Uncle's death. I couldn't just let him get away, you know?"

"So, was that, like, your superhero origin story? Oh, I have so many questions. Uh, how did this happen? How did you get your powers? Did Tony Stark, like, recruit you or something?"

Peter bit his lip in hesitation. Flash may know his identity, but at this point, Peter still wasn't sure how much he should really be revealing to him. He wasn't exactly certain he trusted him yet, either.

"Yeah, uh, like I said, man; I'm pretty sure we're gonna die here, so, you know. No time for secrets."

"Yeah," Peter breathed out, posture melting a little. "Yeah, you-you're probably right, in all honesty. Alright. Here goes."

Peter took in a deep breath, licking his lips and blinking as he tried to pinpoint where exactly he should begin.

"This all started about seven years ago during our field trip to Oscorp."

* * *

"I got it."

Ned's fist pumped in relief as MJ finished connecting her phone to the school's speaker system from Principal Morita's office. She began scrolling through her playlists, biting her lip in thought.

"What song should we play?"

Ned looked down in thought, bringing a hand to his chin.

"Oh, my god. You know what would be hilarious?"

MJ began typing into her browser, snickering a little under her breath as she clicked on a selection.

The sound of an electric guitar began blaring over the speakers. Ned nodded impressively.

"Is this 'Elevate' by DJ Khalil?"

"Yep."

"Niiice."

* * *

Phil marched into the heart of the base, his eyebrow raised as he glanced up at the ceiling, the entire structure seemingly shaking as music boomed from above.

"What the hell is that noise?"

"The Midtown students have staged a revolution."

Phil glanced at one of the several monitors in the room, nodding in astonishment as the screen displayed the students, each in a yellow blazer, dancing around to blaring music in the foyer of the school in front of a makeshift barricade. A few others were shooting Nerf bullets at the ceiling. The teacher, Mr. Harrington, was simply standing back, nodding at them with pride.

"So, that's the sound of liberty?"

"Mhmm."

Phil shrugged, turning back to Neil and tilting his head.

"The good news," Neil started, holding up a miniature disk, "is that we found what we were looking for. I've uploaded it to headquarters."

"And the bad news?"

"Captain Rogers has arrived at the school."

Neil gestured to one of the other monitors, on which Steve was now in the teacher's breakroom, trying to unhinge the secret door of lockers. 

"Could be a problem."

"Not if he's dead," Phil shrugged, handing Neil his handgun from the holster in his belt. "Kill him."

* * *

"Go for Fury."

"Yeah, it's Steve. I've got a situation at the Midtown School of Science and Technology."

"What kind of situation?"

"There was a base under construction back in 2018 that was never completed. It's been infiltrated."

"Well, if it was never completed, why is it any concern of mine? And what the hell is that noise? Music?"

Steve let out an exasperated breath, tilting his head at the series of lockers as he began to develop a plan in his head.

"Because a CIA agent decided to use it as a headquarters and it now contains heavily encrypted information on The Ring, and that headquarters has been infiltrated. Oh, and they're keeping two kids hostage. Likely as a ploy to get Agent X here, but he hasn't made his debut yet."

"The Ring, huh? That was always such a dumbass name. But, I gotta hand it to 'em. They were one notch below Hydra."

"Fury."

"Right, right. Uh, there's a secret entrance. Behind the breakroom lockers."

"Yeah, I'm there. How do I get inside?"

"There's a fingerprint scanner embedded into one of the locks. Not sure which one. Just go crazy with it."

"I've tried those, too. They overwrote my security access and clearance levels."

"Well, every base of ours has a self-destruct program built into it, in case of catastrophic events like this. I'll activate it now."

"Fury, the _kids_ -"

"I'm aware of the kids, Rogers. But if there are people down there hacking into our intelligence-"

"Peter Parker is down there."

There was a pause on the other line, followed by a shuffle against the speaker.

"Fine. I won't blow it up until after the kids are out."

"No," a voice said from the threshold of the breakroom. Steve turned on a dime, greeted by a man in a three-piece suit. He had dark skin and hair, and he leaned against the door casually. "You have to blow it now."

"Uh, who the hell are you?"

The man pulled out a badge from his suit jacket, flashing it briefly Steve's way.

"Agent Harrison Thompson. This is my base."

"You're Agent X?" Steve hung up his call, deciding with finality that Fury would be absolutely no further help to him. "We've got a serious situation down here, and-"

"You have to blow this base sky-high. Call your boss back. We don't have much time."

"We're not blowing up anything, alright? There are two hostages down there."

"So is every piece of intelligence I've collected over the past seven years," Harrison retorted. "Not just on the Ring. Everything."

"So, then, I'm assuming you are unaware of the fact that one of those hostages is Eugene Thompson? That name ring a bell?"

Harrison stilled, clenching his jaw and glancing back and forth between Steve and the lockers. 

"No," Harrison said through clenched teeth. "I was not aware of that."

Steve stiffened as two teenagers, MJ and Ned, appeared in the threshold of the breakroom, Nerf guns drawn. They both eyed Harrison suspiciously.

"H-Hello."

"Kids," Steve breathed out, "are you the ones that turned that music on?"

"I know. Awesome, right?"

" _Focus_ , Ned."

"R-right. Sorry."

"You shouldn't be here," Steve said gravely, his expression dark. "This doesn't concern you kids."

"It does," MJ raised her chin, holding her gun to her chest. "It does concern us. We haven't seen Peter in a really long time."

"We know he's in danger, Mr. Captain. We want to help."

Steve frowned in thought, turning back to the lockers.

"Either of you kids know anything about restarting a server from the backup database?"

"Oh-ho-ho," Ned smirked, lowering his Nerf gun with a puff of laughter. "Now you're just insulting us."

* * *

"So, that's everything. That's how it happened."

Flash hummed casually in response. Peter couldn't ignore the way his heartbeat with excitement equivocal to a three-year-old on a candy high.

"Anything else you want to know before we die?"

"Uh...yeah. So-so why didn't you tell anyone? Y'know? I mean, all that time I made fun of you, and Liz had blatantly said she had a crush on Spider-Man...I mean, why didn't you just tell us what you were doing? You would've been the coolest kid at school."

"Well, first of all, Spider-Man isn't a party trick. And, well...I don't care about any of that, Flash. I stopped caring about being cool a long time ago. Plus, I can't just go around giving away my identity. It puts everyone I love at risk. May, Ned..."

"MJ?"

"Wha-huh? No. What do you mean by that?"

"Dude," Flash snickered, shaking his head. "You're a good liar, Peter, but you're not _that_ good. Alright, I mean, you lied to all of us for years about Spider-Man, but I always knew you loved MJ. I mean, ask anyone. We all see the way you look at her. The way she looks at you."

Peter stared ahead, his lips pursed as he thought. Flash continued stuttering behind him.

"It's okay, dude. You don't have to deny it. I mean, tell me you don't love MJ."

"Y-yeah," Peter nodded incredulously, eyebrows drawn together. "I mean, I don't know about actual love yet, but...you're right. I do really," he chuckled, " _really_ like MJ. A-and I kept telling myself that I didn't, that I couldn't, but...I do."

Peter let out thin laughter in relief, relishing in the way his chest bounced in jubilation.

Despite being tied down on the ground in a secret underground CIA base, he felt overwhelming content, mopping away his prior angst.

"Flash, you have no idea how good it feels to be getting some of this off of my chest. I got in this huge fight with Mr. Stark last night, and I just...I don't know. Just-thanks, man."

"Yeah, uh, thanks to you too," Flash shrugged awkwardly, half of a smile tracing its way onto his face. "You know, for listening. And I hope...I hope you can forgive me. Someday."

"Of course I forgive you, man, I-"

"Get rid of them."

Peter and Flash both jumped in alarm as Phil marched back into the room in long strides, his assembly of suits following closely behind. 

"Kill them. Dump the bodies."

"Well, forgive me later, dude," Flash said with dread as two suits grabbed both of his arms, hoisting him to his feet. Two others did the same to Peter. "We're about to die."

"No, we're not," Peter muttered under his breath, hiding a smirk.

He didn't wait for the suits to unlock his cuffs, instead ripping them in half by yanking his arms apart from behind and sending an elbow straight into the face of the suit escorting him out.

He stepped forward and kicked Phil's gun out of his grip before the man had the chance to cock it, in turn sending him flying to the ground on his ass. He backflipped, kicking the other suit standing uselessly in the middle of the room straight into the wall behind him.

"What the-woah!"

Neil was shoving Flash Peter's way in an attempt to subdue him. Peter simply tossed Flash out of harm's way, sending a roundhouse kick to Neil's face and successfully knocking him unconscious. Peter turned and sent a palm heel strike into the last's suit's face before standing in the center of the room, his fists suspended, ready for battle, though everyone was successfully taken out. He took several recalibrating breaths, his head snapping Flash's way in concern.

"Flash. Are you okay?"

"That was amazing!" Flash said, a little breathless. "That was...I mean, you were like Black Widow, James Bond, and Bruce Lee all rolled up into one."

Peter smiled fondly at that, staring at him from across the room before suddenly, time moved in slow motion yet lightning speed, his senses blaring a million warnings into his head all at once.

Phil was rising from his defeated position on the floor, gun in hand. He lifted himself up onto his right knee, aiming the gun Flash's way, who was totally oblivious. Peter's mouth went dry, instinct imploring him to move from his glued position.

"Flash! _Look out_!"

Without another thought, Peter was diving forward. He leaped in front of Flash, a shot reverberated throughout the room, and then he was falling, crashing onto his side thunderously.

"Peter!" 

Flash collapsed onto his knees, scooping Peter up into his arms. Blood was gushing from Peter's left arm, numbing the entire limb. Peter stared ahead, his brain seeming to reject what exactly had happened.

Peter's head snapped toward Phil, his eyebrows knotted together in shock and anger combined.

"You just shot me!"

Phil simply cocked his gun again, the barrel shaking in his trembling hand. Flash took a deep breath, stood from his position on the ground, and stepped over Peter's limp body, legs spread in a defensive stance and arms fisted at his sides.

"You want him?" Flash snarled, lifting his fists to crack his knuckles, though the gesture proved to be unsuccessful as he pathetically lowered them back to his sides. "You're gonna have to go through me."

Phil laughed in a low growl, his finger hovering over the trigger. 

"Peter," Flash snapped suddenly, as if he had been trying to get his attention for quite some time. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah," Peter struggled to prop himself up on his good arm. "More or less."

He would fight this guy right alongside Flash if he had to.

Suddenly, a loud _thunk_ filled the room as Phil's body slammed to the ground yet again, Steve standing over it with a metal briefcase in hand. MJ and Ned stood behind him, Nerf guns drawn.

"You have the right to remain silent, motherfucker!"

"Hey- _Language_."

"They deserve it," Ned said, his voice low with a fake deepness and intimidation to it. He stood firmly behind the barrel of his plastic weapon. "When they wake up in a cold sweat in the dead of night. I want it to be my face that haunts them. 

Steve raised an eyebrow but nodded with a grunt, letting the case drop to the ground as he frantically reached down to assess Peter's condition.

"What happened? Pete? You with me?"

"Peter, oh my god!"

"Dude!"

"I'm okay too," Flash said rather breathlessly. "By the way."

Peter raised his eyebrows, a hand pressed firmly on his bicep. He nodded, trembling from head to toe as sweat and blood began seeping through his t-shirt. Flash kneeled down beside him frantically and assessed his condition beside MJ and Ned. Steve scooped the kid up into his arms, jogging for the stairs back up to the school. MJ and Ned staggered closely behind.

"Parker," Flash jogged through the door of the room, staring down the corridor and calling after him. "I take back 50% of the bad things I've ever said about you!"

Peter held up an exhausted thumbs up before he fell limp in Steve's arms. Flash thought about following, about staying by Peter's side until he knew he was okay, but then someone was moving out of the corner of his eye, someone familiar, and he found himself following them, not entirely controlling where his legs began taking him.

He found himself jogging into the foyer of the base, right in front of the stairs leading back up to the school. A man in a three-piece suit was holding a miniature disk in his hand and typing something frantically into a computer. Flash stood in the center of the room, utterly stupefied.

"Dad?"

The man looked forward and stilled. He turned, agonizingly slow, to face the kid, rounding his shoulder. Dark, familiar eyes met Flash's identical ones. The man's gaze softened, his shoulders dropping.

Flash's brain conveniently ceased to comprehend anything happening around him.

He wanted desperately to blame it on the shock of the gunshot, on the shock of that entire afternoon, but he simply stood in his place, dumbfounded and overwhelmed and unexplainably sad.

"Eugene."

For several moments, the two simply stood and observed each other carefully, eyes tracing up and down. The room was dark, Harrison's face only illuminated by the soft, pale light of the monitors.

Flash wasn't really sure at which point in time he had lost touch with reality, but it felt like an eternity before he found the courage necessary in him to speak again.

"Is it true?" he swallowed the lump blocking his throat. "Are you a CIA agent?"

"There are forces at work here much bigger than you and I," Harrison shot back, his voice low and gravelly. "It's not that simple."

"Just answer the question." Rage swelled within his chest as any fragile emotion lodged in his throat suddenly hardened like a rock with solid intensity. Harrison stared back, tired.

"I've got to go on ahead, kiddo," Harrison spoke softly. The tiniest of smiles quirked his lips, and Flash's heart stilled in his chest. 

A sound resounded from the top of the stairs. A faint clicking, really, like an air conditioner being switched on. Flash found himself instinctually snapping his head up toward the sound, though when he turned back, panic and downheartedness ripping through him anew as his father had suddenly vanished without a trace. 

Flash stood for a moment longer only with the motivation of wishful thinking before he was turning to the stairs, taking them two at a time to get to his friends.

* * *

When Steve turned the corner with a bloodsoaked Peter in his arms and a frantic MJ and Ned following hot on his heels, the Decathalon team was seemingly oblivious. 

They continued to dance in the corridor, shooting their Nerf guns carelessly. Cindy was the first to notice, any prior jubilation exuding from her figure thrown out the window as she found herself barreling toward the pair solely on intuition, Betty and Abe following closely behind. The music had stopped amid their frenzy. 

"Peter!"

"Oh, my god! Peter!"

"What happened?! What-"

Steve focused instead on getting outside of the building, watching as red and blue sirens began blaring from just outside of the front gates. He leaped over the mountain of furniture blocking the front entrance, his precious cargo still cradled closely to his chest as he kicked the doors down. The Decathalon team began tearing apart the barricade frantically in an attempt to follow them. 

Flash turned the corner of the hallway and sprinted down to meet the group. They each immediately noticed his presence, eyes wide with horror as Peter's blood was still plastered across his shirt.

"Flash! Are you okay?

"What the hell happened?!"

"What's wrong with Peter?"

"Where have you guys been?!"

"I knew-I just _knew_ I heard a gunshot or _something_ -"

"What happened to the suit guys?! And _where have you guys been_?!"

Flash didn't answer. Instead, he brought his arms up, wrapping Betty, Cindy, and Abe into a group hug simultaneously. They each stilled, eyeing each other in confusion.

"Flash," Cindy started carefully. "Are you... _hugging_ us?"

"Shh," Flash shook his head, patting her back. "Just...shut up."

"Oh, good," Mr. Harrington approached the group rather skittishly, rubbing his hands together. "Yes. Now, more than ever, we have to stick together. I love you guys."

Mr. Harrington wrapped his arms around them all, humming in delight. 

"Mmm, very good," he breathed out. "Just like Tabatha."

"Ew."

"Nuh-uh."

"The moment is gone."

"That's so wrong."

* * *

The MSST front lot may have been covered in ambulances and police cars, but it didn't stop Tony's Audi from ripping through the commotion.

He stumbled out of his car as everything around him appeared to rotate in slow motion. One of Peter's jackets was clutched in his hand with a white-knuckle grip. He had grabbed it before initially skidding out of his driveway, a pathetic attempt to feel tethered to his kid during the excruciating amount of time he spent on the road.

He skirted around the front of his car, entire posture out of control with worry. Out of breath, eyebrows drawn together, he searched feverishly across the lawn of the school, his eyes finally finding Steve's as he sprinted down the steps of the MSST main entrance, a limp, blood-smeared body held close to his chest. He was being followed closely by Peter's friends, MJ and Ned.

It was enough to snap a terrified chord in his heart and force his legs to break into a sprint, tunnel vision set on the precious cargo in Steve's arms. He skidded to a halt in front of him, a quiet gasp wrenching itself from deep inside of his throat as his knees threatened to cave beneath him.

This probably wasn't exactly doing wonders for his heart, either.

"Wh-wh-what?" Tony shook his head frantically once his brain finally caught up to him and he had to convince himself that _yes, that's Peter, covered in blood, looking way too little in Steve's arms_. "I don't-I don't-"

"GSW to the left upper bicep," Steve began listing off in a frenzy. He appeared to be trying to sound calm and composed, but there was no mistaking that distinct, quivering fear in the back of his throat that Peter was always magically able to pull out of anyone, even enhanced super-soldiers. "He's still in shock. Swinging in and out of consciousness. He needs medication for the pain. We need Cho, Banner, a paramedic, anyone we can get."

"Woah, o-okay," Tony took Steve's arm firmly in his, staring at him in an attempt to ground him.

"He's been shot?!" MJ and Ned stood frozen at the foot of the steps, looking over Steve's shoulder skittishly at the kid.

Peter suddenly shot up in Steve's arms, startling him enough to make him drop Peter down to his feet. 

"What happened?" he asked frantically, trembling as he stumbled forward, crashing into Tony. "What happened?"

"Woah, woah, easy. You're okay, baby, you're okay. I've got you."

"Kid? You with us?"

"Y-yeah," Peter croaked, grabbing a firm hold of Tony's forearms as he struggled to balance. "That was, uh...really scary."

"Yeah, kiddo," Tony breathed out, draping the jacket over Peter's trembling shoulders and reaching a hand forward to cup Peter's face. "Do you understand what happened to you?"

Peter glanced down at his arm with a gulp, shaking his head.

"I don't want to."

"Me neither, Petey. Let's get you to one of these ambulances, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay," Peter wrapped his good arm around Tony's shoulders, letting him lead the way to the bed of a nearby ambulance. He turned back to Steve gratefully, gratefully accepting the frantic help of the paramedics. 

Flash watched from the top of the stairs of the school, his shoulders tense and his arms crossed, but he found himself letting out a breath of relief as Peter was escorted into one of the ambulances, being immediately swarmed by doctors.

Across the way, somewhere where no one could see him, Harrison Thomspon spared Flash one final, sympathetic gaze before he took off down the sidewalk, heart weighing heavier in his chest than the usual constant he was used to.

* * *

"Mind if I sit?"

Peter looked up from his crouched sitting position on the edge of the ambulance, meeting Tony's warm eyes as he held a steaming beverage in his hand. His head tilted sympathetically at Peter's arm resting in its sling, as well as the uncomfortable looking trauma blanket draped over his shoulders, a garment he wanted to burn and replace with one of Pepper's fleeces as soon as possible.

Peter nodded, watching Tony as he stooped to Peter's level and hoisted himself up onto the bed of the truck, offering the beverage his way.

"Hot chocolate. I had one of the paramedics whip it up for you."

"Wow, th-thanks," Peter accepted it gratefully with his free hand. He sipped at it carefully, closing his eyes in satisfaction as the warmth of it. "Mm. That's really nice. Thank you."

"I knew it would probably fix that little hole in your arm right up," Tony shrugged, adjusting his glasses rather nonchalantly. "So, you know, naturally, I got one for you at any and all costs."

Peter snickered, setting the cup down beside him and staring out at his school, the sirens of the police cars and ambulances illuminating it in a rather unpleasant light.

"You had some real cajones today, you know. You took down a group of very dangerous Ring operatives and kept them from accessing very confidential information, including your identity."

"They won't tell anyone, right? I mean, like, I'm good?"

"Don't worry, Pete. Your secret's still safe."

Peter let out a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding, nodding as he continued looking out over the lawn.

"Why was there a base built under my school in the first place, Mr. Stark?"

Tony winced, propping his knees up and resting his elbows on them as he stared out in thought. 

"Well, kid, five years ago, you didn't exactly have a headquarters. The tower had been sold, and the compound was upstate, and...it was a little rash of me, but when Fury suggested it, I just...wanted to keep you safe, and I wanted you to be able to utilize all of your resources properly. It was never finished. It was going to be like your little Christmas gift, you know? But then, you stuck to the side of that spaceship, and there was no one here to use the base, and someone else, this Agent X person, found a use for it, I guess."

Peter nodded slowly, taking in the information in bits. He snickered again, almost under his breath.

"Under my school? Really?"

"Yeah, yeah. Cut me some slack, Pete."

Tony nudged Peter's shoulder as they both shared a laugh. Peter looked up at the sky as thunder rumbled from above, threatening a downfall at any moment. His gaze traveled over to Flash, who was sitting on a bench wearing an identical trauma blanket and bouncing his leg nervously, a phone brought up to his ear. Peter honed his senses in on the phone call to the best of his ability.

"H-hey, dad. So, uh...Mom's not answering my calls at the moment. I don't know, maybe she's just dealing with-with you, or, uh...You know, I have a lot of unanswered questions. And I don't really know what's going to happen next here, but, uh...I just need you to know that I love you. You did the very best that you could, and the bad-the bad was _really_ bad-it cast a shadow on all of us. But I love you, Dad, and I'll try my hardest to only remember the good times, okay? I'll remember listening to records and driving really fast with you. Just you and me. You did a lot of good. Or, at least, that's what I'm choosing to believe. I love you, okay? I wouldn't trade you for any other father."

Flash ended the call without much of a flair, leaning over on the bench and holding his head in his hands. Peter swallowed the lump in his throat, an urge rising up in him that he was unfamiliar with.

"You scared the hell out of me today, kiddo."

Peter noticed that Tony had ceased rubbing soothing circles around Peter's back and instead began cupping his neck. Peter found himself leaning into the touch as he cleared his raspy, sore throat.

"I was, uh...I was really scared that our last conversation would be the last thing I ever said to you."

Tony glanced down at Peter, his eyes still etched with worry, though they held a knowing gaze at Peter's words.

"Me, too. It's all I've been thinking about."

Another pause. Tony began wadding his fingers through Peter's curls, using any excuse he could to touch the kid.

"I'm sorry, Peter. I mean it. You know me, I'm never sorry. I have literally never made a mistake in my entire life."

Peter fought the way his lips quirked into a smile, the way Tony's threatened to at his own quippy nature.

"I mean it, kid. I...I understand now. Even if you had stopped Spider-Manning, that doesn't mean that danger will disappear. Your school got ambushed today when you were just Peter Parker. Well, not _just_ , but, you know what I mean. Stopping might decrease the factor of danger by a million, but it won't make it go away. So, you know, if that danger is always going to be there, you should at least have Spider-Man to rely on to fight it. Yeah?"

"Yeah," Peter nodded, a tranquil smile melted his entire posture. "Thank you, Mr. Stark. And I'm sorry, too. Sorry for yelling, and...I dunno. I was being really immature."

"Not as much as I was," Tony snickered. 

"I just want you to know, I..." Peter thought about Flash's words from the phone for a beat, a thin laugh rising up in his throat. "I wouldn't trade any of it. Spider-Man, meeting you...that's why Spider-Man is important to me."

Tony's eyes crinkled as he smiled genuinely down at the kid, tracing his hand from Peter's hair to his cheek, cupping it protectively. Peter leaned over as Tony pulled him into the crook of his arm, planting a long, firm kiss on his head.

"Peter!" 

MJ and Ned jogged over to Peter's position worriedly. Ned held a phone firmly in his grip, while MJ held his backpack.

"Hey, man. I called your Aunt. She's on her way here."

"Thank you, Ned."

"And, uh," MJ started carefully, lifting a yellow Jansport into view. She eyed it awkwardly between herself and Peter. Ned swallowed, shrugging Peter's way apologetically.

"Captain Rogers uncovered this from the...the spy base? Underneath the school, I guess. Which is just...whatever. Anyway, he told me to give this back to you."

Peter stilled completely. The zipper of it was still open, and there was no mistaking the neon red suit tucked inside of it. She pursed her lips, extending it toward him. Tony took it for him, placing it on the floor of the ambulance.

"Th-thanks," Peter croaked, his mouth dry. "And thanks for coming down to save Flash and I. That was really brave."

"So," MJ ignored his gratitude. "You're Spider-Man."

"Nah."

"He isn't."

"I'm not."

"It's just a costume."

"Yeah. Just a costume."

MJ chuckled softly under her breath, leaning forward and placing a quick kiss on Peter's cheek. He immediately tensed, acutely aware of Tony and Ned's eyes drilling holes into his brain as his cheeks immediately warmed with blush. She pulled away awkwardly, shooting another glance to the backpack.

"I knew, by the way. That you were Spider-Man."

"I don't doubt that."

Peter sent another worried glance Flash's way. He was still holding his head in his hands, his leg still bouncing nervously. Peter bit his lip, looking back to the group before him as he dropped off of the bed of the ambulance and onto his feet. They each immediately shot supportive hands onto his arms.

"I'm gonna go make sure that Flash is okay."

"You are?" Ned scoffed incredulously, sending a glare Flash's way. "That guy has been bullying you since Freshman year."

"Yeah. You don't owe him anything, Peter."

"He's the reason you got shot, dude."

"I'm sorry, that kid has been doing _what_?"

Peter rolled his eyes, trudging over to Flash exhaustedly and collapsing into the free space beside him on the bench. Flash immediately tensed, staring at Peter for a surprised beat too long.

"You okay, man? How's the arm?"

Peter nudged it a little offhandedly, shrugging.

"Kinda aches. It'll heal in a couple of days."

A hint of shock etched onto Flash's features. His lips quirked into a smile.

"So, uh...you're really Spider-Man, then?" he asked, his attention focusing on Tony for a beat. "And Tony Stark, he's like your boss?"

"More like my mentor," Peter hummed, sending a weak, two-fingered wave Tony's way. He returned it casually, trying to brush off the fact that he was watching them. "We've gotten pretty close, especially since the Blip."

"Yeah, I bet."

Silence. Painful, deafening silence. Peter looked out onto the lawn of the school as a frantic Principal Morita in plaid pajama bottoms and a coat was saying something obnoxiously to Mr. Harrington, as several men in suits emerged from the building mercilessly dragging behind Phil, Neil, and their henchmen. It was all illuminated by the constant red and blue flash of the sirens, casting a distinct feeling of melancholy out onto the building. Thunder rumbled from overhead once again.

"You know," Peter spoke up, still not making eye contact, "you were really brave back there. You saved my life."

" _You_ saved my life," Flash scoffed, rubbing his hands together nervously. "And then, Captain America saved both of our asses."

"It's not about that. You stood over me and protected me, dude. They would've killed me for sure if you hadn't done what you did."

"...Really?"

"I dunno. Maybe not."

A pause. Both boys held their breath.

"Flash, hey, listen, uh...we're not just our failures, you know? As much as they hurt, we learn from them."

"Yeah," Flash muttered quietly under his breath. "Yeah, I know that."

"We all want to be your friend. That is, if you wanna be ours."

Flash nodded with a hum, reaching a hand out with a grin.

"We made a pretty good team back there, huh, Parker?"

Peter stared incredulously at him, extending his good hand and holding Flash's firmly in his with a shake. 

"Y-yeah. We really did."

"All those things...all those things I said and did, Parker, I'm-"

"I know," Peter shook his head, holding Flash's hand with more of an iron grip. "It's okay. We're not just our failures. Remember?"

"Right," Flash nodded. The two released the grip, leaning back on the bench with sighs of exhaustion. Flash ran a tired hand over his face.

"They're probably gonna stick me in Witness Protection or something," Flash groaned, shaking his head. "And my parents are definitely going to stop paying for me to go here."

"You're not going to go to Witness Protection, Flash."

A pause. Peter glanced Tony's way again, who had seemingly not stopped staring at the Peter like a hawk. May was running toward the ambulance in a trance, her shoulders raised in suspense as her eyes finally laid on Peter's. She physically relaxed, sending a subtle wave his way with a reassuring wink.

And Peter stared fondly at the people standing across the way, people he loved ridiculously, people who would do anything for him. He glanced back at Flash from the corner of his eye, warmth fluttering up and sparking in his chest. A grin suddenly plastered his face as an idea dawned upon him. He cast a smug look Flash's way.

"And I don't think you need to worry about paying tuition anymore."

* * *

Two days later, Flash jogged down the stairs of his house after his mother called him down claiming he had mail.

He frowned, but it was probably just another college reaching out to him. That happened a lot when you went to a school for geniuses; no matter the grade, colleges are always wanting to get the first say.

Flash shuffled through the stack of envelopes, stopping when he noticed the one with his name on it.

Except it wasn't from a university. It was from Tony Stark.

Flash froze, slowly and carefully lifting the envelope up in his quivering hands, as if it would vanish in thin air if he wasn't careful enough. The next second, he was ripping it open, unfolding the piece of paper and frowning as a smaller slip floated out. He caught it before it could hit the ground.

" _Congratulations_ ," the paper read, " _you are the recipient of the Stark Industries W.E.B. scholarship! The W.E.B. is the WorldWide Engineering Brigade, an organization where young geniuses are inventing the technology for the future heroes of tomorrow. First established by Stark Industries' first-ever intern, Peter Parker, this organization allows the youth of our futures to use their minds to the fullest of their potential. This scholarship covers the rest of your high-school expenses, offers you free tuition to the university of your choosing, and provides you with a prestigious internship at the newly-restored Stark Industries tower. Please reach out to Tony Stark with the attached credentials by the end of the week._ "

Flash choked out a gasp, fumbling to flip the smaller slip over upon discovering that it was a check. He stared at it, his hands trembling now, with his heart thundering in his chest. The check, made out to the Midtown School of Science and Technology, was the most glorious thing Flash had ever laid his eyes on.

"Eight-thousand dollars?!"

Flash laughed incredulously, his knees threatening to cave underneath him.

Well, that's a lie. They _did_ cave.

Flash collapsed to his knees with the letter and check held close to his chest. He let out a breath of relief he wasn't aware he had been holding that entire week, his eyes subconsciously trailing over to a photo of his father and him stuck to the fridge door. He softened at the sight of it, taking another look at the contents in his hands with a deep, recalibrating breath. 

_It's alright, dad,_ he wanted to tell him. _I think I'll be okay._

* * *

That Monday, upon returning to the school, Flash decided against flaunting around his new internship and scholarship from Tony Stark. A week ago, he would've run up and down the halls screaming about it, would've announced it over the school speakers, but now, all he wanted to do was jog to Peter's locker to show him.

Upon rounding the corner, he stopped in his tracks, noticing that Peter's locker was surrounded by Peter, MJ, Ned, Betty, Cindy, and Abe, all laughing at a polaroid picture. From a distance, Flash could make out that the photo was the Academic Decathalon team, minus Flash and Peter, posing with Nerf guns in front of their makeshift barricade. Steve was standing in the middle, holding a Nerf gun as well, though he looked extremely out of place, his face a deadpan to the camera. 

Peter was the one holding it, his head thrown back with a bark of laughter.

"I cannot _believe_ you guys thought he was just-he was just _joining_ your revolution! Oh, my god. This is so amazing. I want to frame this."

The others were talking over each other, pointing at it, laughing. Flash bit his lip, unsure if he should approach the group.

"Flash!"

His eyes widened upon noticing that Cindy was beckoning him over, pointing at the photo.

"You've gotta see this! It's priceless!"

Flash hesitated, approaching the group slowly. Peter instinctually made room for him to stand by the locker, holding the photo in the light for him to see.

"Isn't this so ridiculous? Like, they all legitimately thought he was just joining their rebellion. You guys waited way too long to notice that Flash and I were missing!"

"By the way," Betty placed a reassuring hand on Peter's slung arm in concern, her eyes etched with worry, "how's the arm, Peter? We were all so worried about you."

"Never been better," Peter nodded, glancing back at Flash. "Would've been a lot worse if not for him."

"That's so awesome, man," Abe spoke up, reaching a hand out to shake Flash's. "You guys were both so brave. Not everyone can say they got held hostage _and_ left without a bullet wound, unlike sloppy Peter."

Peter deadpanned, tossing the polaroid into his locker and swinging it shut.

"Well," Flash smirked, flaunting an envelope, "not everyone can say that they got an internship and scholarship from Tony Stark, either."

"Woah!"

"No way!"

"That is so awesome, man!"

"Congratulations, dude."

Peter clapped Flash on the shoulder with a wink. Peter glanced Ned's way, who was carrying Peter's backpack for him due to his sling.

"Wanna walk with us to class?"

"S-sure," Flash nodded, waving goodbye to Betty, Cindy, and Abe as MJ, Ned, and Peter began walking to their first period. Peter made room for Flash to walk right beside him.

"So," MJ started, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. "Your arm is healed, right, Peter?"

"Oh, yeah," Peter scoffed, gesturing weakly to his sling. "This is just a cover. I'll probably have to wear it for a month. But hey, now I don't have to do P.E. for a whole month, either."

"You are so lucky," Ned shook his head.

"I got shot, Ned."

"So, so lucky."

"Oh, hey, Flash," Peter spoke up, pulling out a set of tickets from the front pocket of his bag, "MJ and Ned and I were going to catch a movie after school. Want to come?"

"I already bought four tickets," MJ gestured to the stack. "So, you know, you have to."

"Y-yeah," Flash grinned, shrugging his shoulders. "Sure. Could be fun."

"Yeah," Peter nodded, pocketing the tickets and nudging Flash's shoulder lightly. 

"Could be fun." 


End file.
